


Memories

by Nemesis (ThetaSigma), ThetaSigma



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 16:16:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6122169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThetaSigma/pseuds/Nemesis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThetaSigma/pseuds/ThetaSigma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their deaths, John and Fin's family remember them. Mentions events from <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5798542">When This Steel Trap Begins to Rust</a>, <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6076692">Alone</a>, and <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6027616">Abducted</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories

Amy lay flowers at the grave, reading the names, though she had memorized the gravestone by now. “John Munch” and the years “and his loving husband, Odafin Tutuola” and the years. She thought of her first memory of her Grandpa John – a terrifying one, involving her kidnapping, but she remembered the strength of his arms as he held her tight every moment he could during it. It had been a year since they passed – shot themselves, two months apart – and she wiped a tear away. She missed them terribly. She had grown up with them, Grandpa John always there to lecture her on all the ways she was exposing herself to terrible forces in her life, grand conspiracy theories only he believed in.

Grandpa Fin always rolled his eyes and told her not to believe everything he said. She remembered chess with Grandpa John and sports with Grandpa Fin, long afternoons spent at their place. Grandpa John muttering annoyedly at the sports on the TV, “mind rotting opiates for the masses to distract us from what’s really going on, no substance,” and Grandpa Fin turning up the volume to annoy him further with a smirk. That usually got Grandpa John to hook his finger in Grandpa Fin’s necklace and pull him in for a kiss. Amy, when she had reached about eight, had started to go “oh gross”, but later on, it had been sweet, two old men who had loved each other for decades by then, side by side in old age.

Their place had been full of books, mainly Grandpa John’s, mainly nutty conspiracy guides. She had tried reading some of them, but they had made her head hurt, the warped way to view the world. Amy had had enough of it listening to Grandpa John and left the books alone. There were police stuff, too, but they kept her away from those, telling her that the images in there was nothing anyone outside of the force needed in their heads. 

She had glanced in one when she was 12, curious, and shut it hastily. A decomposing body, and she’d had nightmares for weeks about it. She never touched any of them again, and neither grandfather talked about their years on the force. Amy had asked sometimes for their memorable cases.

“Listen, Amy,” Grandpa Fin had said seriously. “John and I saw horrible, horrible things. It was our job. We are not going to put those images in your head. You don’t need them there, and unless you join the force, you’re better off not knowing.”

“But, Grandpa Fin,” she had protested. “What _kind_ of things did you deal with?”

“Murder, rape, dismemberment, kidnapping, pedophilia,” John had answered quietly. “And that’s enough of that. We don’t like to remember, either, not now that both of us are retired. Amy, honey, trust me, I know you’re curious, but once you picture them, you can’t forget them. Let it be.” He sounded so serious, and so had Grandpa Fin, that Amy had dropped it. She still wondered what could be so bad.

For a school project, she dug up one of their cases in the newspapers. Amy knew that not all the details made it to the newspapers, and armed with the newspapers, she went and asked them for more, for the project.

Hesitantly, reluctantly, they talked about it, walked her through it. “Because you won’t let this go,” Grandpa John had said.

The details haunted her for months. She never asked again, never looked up details again. She understood now why they didn’t talk about it. That was only _one_ case, one case with haunting details, and she thought about how many cases they must have handled. How many ghosts must hang around them, victims still with them even in retirement. There were bad days, ones she had learned to mark on the calendar, that either Grandpa John or Grandpa Fin would not be up for company, and early on the other had explained that it was the anniversary of something bad from a case, and they were remembering.

Amy remembered their last party, held three years ago, before the dementia had really gripped Grandpa John. They had been celebrating 43 years together. Grandpa John had been old by then, well over 90, and walking with a cane, and not quite as sharp as he used to be, but they hadn’t known yet how quickly he’d deteriorate. Grandpa Fin had barely left his side, the two of them walking among friends new and old. Amy’s siblings had been bored at the party by all the old people around, but Amy, who always had a really soft spot for her grandpas, had been swept away by how cute they were, two old men hanging onto each other.

Then came the dementia, the rapid loss of memory. Grandpa John had forgotten things quickly, losing years within months. Amy remembered the pain in Grandpa Fin as Grandpa John slowly forgot him, and she had visited often, trying to soothe Grandpa Fin. She doubted anything could, though.

Grandpa John’s suicide was no surprise to her, and honestly, neither was Grandpa Fin’s. She had tried to be there often for him, but she had just found out she was pregnant, throwing herself into that, her new marriage, and sadly, a beloved grandpa fell by the wayside in all the changes. She wondered, sometimes, if she had made more time, if Grandpa Fin would still be around, but she doubted it, not after 45 years together. 

Amy lay a stone on the tombstone, a nod to Grandpa John’s original religion. “Nice to see you again, Grandpas,” she said softly. “You missed John’s birth – sorry Grandpa Fin, Grandpa John came first, but I’ve told you you’re next – of course, as I said. He’s nearly 1 now. Started walking the other day. It’s good, slowed him down, he was a fast crawler. He’s got dada and mama down now. He’s doing well, bright like his namesake. Hopefully without the conspiracy angle, though, I don’t think I could go through that again. School’s going well. The kids are tough, but they respect me so it’s not as bad as it could be. I’m still a little young to really command respect, though. Few more years and gray hairs, though, and it’ll happen.” She sighed. “I miss you guys.”

*** 

Alejandro missed John deeply. He had bonded with John early on over their prickly men and over pushing the feuding father/son pair together, and it had evolved into a deep friendship. They had met often – monthly – for dinner, usually with their spouses, with Alejandro and John doing most of the talking. Sometimes they met, just the two of them, as good friends, especially when Ken or Fin had been busy with work, the little ones running around the apartment while John and Alejandro watched indulgently.

John had guided him through some crises. Uncertainty over adopting a third child – Ken had been all for it, but Alejandro had some reservations. Difficulty with the children, and despite not having any kids of his own, only being a stepparent to an adult child, John had always provided sound advice. But it wasn’t just the advice Alejandro missed, but the sharp, funny, sarcastic conversation. John had a way with words that few people did, and a cynical outlook on life that was like a breath of fresh air sometimes. Underneath that cynicism, though, John loved, and loved deeply: his husband, his stepson, his son-in-law, his grandchildren.

For someone with four failed marriages, John had managed not to let it make him so bitter he couldn’t manage a loving, wonderful fifth with Fin, and while Alejandro understood Ken’s difficulty with his father, it always warmed his heart to see John and Fin interacting, the small gestures that spoke of a love that ran deep. He hoped his and Ken’s marriage would be as successful, as loving, as wonderful as John and Fin’s, because honestly, it was a role model marriage.

Alejandro had kept visiting John even as John fell deeper into the dementia and forgot him. It had hurt to be forgotten, of course, and after a while, gentle reminders who he was meant nothing to John. Some days, John had accepted him with warmth anyway, a companion to talk to, and those were good days, but some days, John was all suspicion. Alejandro wasn’t sure if that suspicion came from John’s penchant for conspiracy theories or from his long years as a cop, but those days were tough. But he hung on and stayed for a bit, relieving Fin for a couple hours.

He had thought losing John like that was the worst, but John had retained the sharp edge of his tongue throughout most of his dementia and could still be funny, even if he didn’t remember most of what was going on. Having him completely gone was hard, and Alejandro found himself dialing John’s number every so often to chat before he realized John was dead. 

Once, he’d completed the call, unthinking, and a strange woman had picked it up. They’d both been confused, Alejandro expecting John, as it had been John for years – decades, even. Alejandro had first asked how she had gotten his phone, and the woman had gotten belligerent that it was _her_ phone, thank you – that’s when he had remembered. John was dead. Shamefully, he had apologized and hung up and gone to hug his husband close.

He missed Fin too, of course, but John had been the one he really bonded with, the close friend in the couple, the one he knew well. He hadn’t been surprised at Fin’s suicide, but he missed that last connection to John – selfish of him to think of it that way, of course, Fin was a person in his own right – but for decades his friendship had been mainly with John. Oh, he’d gotten along fine with Fin, but he’d always sought out John. 

Alejandro started dialing John’s number again, only to realize.

*** 

Ken was surprised by how much he missed his father. They’d mended fences years ago – almost 20 years ago – but even then, the relationship hadn’t been smooth, both of them prickly. Fights had always broken out over the smallest misunderstanding, and it had always taken John and Alejandro to keep them from blowing up into something unforgiveable. 

He hadn’t turned to his father for advice in most cases, preferring friends his age, or, in extreme cases, John. His dad was usually a last resort, both of them awkward, phrasing things wrong.

He honestly hadn’t expected the loss to hurt this much. John’s loss had hurt, of course, although it had seemed to affect Alejandro far more, but while Ken had been there for his dad, he hadn’t suspected any suicidal tendencies. 

He felt like he should have. 

He didn’t know what memories of his father to focus on – even the good ones had an undercurrent of tension, of potential missteps. Ken had always been on guard, unable to let go of childhood hurts, and now, as he looked at his dad’s gravestone, he realized he had missed his chance to have a truly smooth, loving relationship with his dad.

Twenty years ago, they’d started. It had been a haltingly start, close to beginning, but the walls had closed in on them and defenses had gone up and they hadn’t managed it again. 

Ken wiped away tears angrily. He carried the blame for some of it – maybe a lot of it – and now his dad was dead and only he could carry the burden of the feud on.

“Dad, I did love you,” he said softly to the grave.


End file.
